


The Hand of Fate

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, Humor, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-05
Updated: 1999-05-05
Packaged: 2018-11-10 23:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11136810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: This story is a sequel toThe Scent of A Woman.





	The Hand of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

The Hand Of Fate

My disclaimer: The characterizations of Benton Fraser, Ray Vecchio, Diefenbaker, and the rest of the dueSouth gang belong entirely to the minds that created them. Enjoy! 

# THE HAND OF FATE

By Patti Cherry  
Due South Fiction

The sun was shining brightly over the city of Chicago early Monday morning. The snow removal crews continued to work at a frantic pace. Snow plows and front loaders were out in force, clearing the streets and municipal parking lots, followed by the salt and sand trucks. The air was filled with the sounds of these vehicles hard at work trying to bring a semblance of normalcy back to the city. Shovels scraped against sidewalks as people attempted to dig their way out from under the twenty plus inches of snow that had fallen over the weekend. Children joyfully played on the mountainous piles of packed snow created by the trucks, impervious to the cold and the frustration of the adults wielding the shovels. The prayers of the city's children had been answered: school had been canceled. 

The glare of the sun shining off the snow and ice was blinding, making it difficult for motorists and pedestrians alike. Dark sunglasses were in vogue, along with woolen scarves, knit hats and earmuffs. The wind had died down considerably, easing the chill of the Canadian cold front. Still, the temperature wasn't expected to reach more than the low twenty's for the day's high. 

Detective Ray Vecchio cautiously maneuvered his way through the streets, cursing under his breath at the salty, sandy mess. He'd just taken the Riv through the car wash on Friday, getting the works. Wash, wax, towel dry, and a good vacuuming; especially the back seat where Dief usually rode. God knows what had been growing back there. The wolf never listened. No matter how many times he had been told not to eat in the car, he still managed to sneak in treats. Ray made a decision to start frisking him before allowing him in the Riv from now on. It was bad enough with all the wolf hair, but junk food leftovers were just too much. 

Constable Benton Fraser and his wolf, Diefenbaker, were waiting patiently out front the apartment building as Ray pulled along the snow bank that now served as the curb. Fraser stepped easily over the three foot barrier, let Dief in, then climbed in himself. 

"He better not have breakfast with him." Ray nodded his head in Dief's direction. 

"Good morning, Ray. We already had breakfast." 

"I'm going to start checking him for contraband munchies starting today. You hear that, Dief? No more Cheese Curls. If I wanted orange seats, I'd buy seat covers." Diefenbaker yawned loudly and turned to look out the window, totally ignoring Ray's outburst. "I don't know why I bother. Neither one of you listen to me." Ray put the Riv in gear and pulled away from the curb. 

"Is there a problem Ray?" 

"No problem, Fraser. I like having ants in my car. The more the merrier." 

"I wasn't aware of the ants, Ray. When did this happen?" 

"How long have we known each other?" 

"Well it's going on.." 

"Forget it. Just forget it. Okay?" 

Fraser watched his friend as they made their way to the bank uptown. Ray seemed a bit upset this morning. Things probably didn't go well with Ms. Bennet on Saturday; either that, or the Bulls lost the game again. Ray tended to take the basketball games personally, as if their wins or losses reflected directly on him. Once, after a particularly emotional loss, Fraser had made a comment about it only being a game and not to take it too personal. It had been a good thing that Ray hadn't been wearing his weapon at the time. As it was, he hadn't spoken to Benton for three days. 

"The cable went out right before the game." 

"I'm sorry that happened, Ray. Did you listen to the radio?" 

"Of course I listened to the radio! They kept interrupting the broadcast with updates on the storm. Like people can't see that it's snowing outside. Morons." 

"They're called public service announcements." 

"I know what they're called." 

"I never meant to suggest otherwise, Ray. I'm sorry if I've upset you." 

"I'm not upset." 

"Understood." 

The two men drove in silence for several blocks. The date with Marissa Bennet had not gone well. All she had done from the moment Ray picked her up was whine and complain about the storm and his driving. There were still fingerprints embedded in the dash from her clutching at it, and a prominent footprint in the carpet caused by her imaginary brake pedal. They hadn't even made it to his house when the argument broke out. Cracks about his driving he could take; but when it came to the Riv or the Bulls, that was another story. It ended with him taking her right back to her place and Marissa slamming the door in his face. Oh well, it was better to find these things out now rather than later. 

"I guess some things just aren't meant to be. Must have been Fate. Better luck next time. Right?" 

"If you say so, Ray." 

As the Riv continued on its way, the sudden thud of a snowball hitting the driver's window caused Ray to jump visibly and hit the brakes. He turned to look through the disintegrating blob of snow and saw several older kids take off down the street, laughing and gesturing to one another as they went. "Damn kids." In his peripheral vision, Ray could see Fraser bent at the waist, hands on the floor. "You okay Fraser?" The Mountie sat upright, bringing with him a paperback book. He turned the book around and peered at the cover. "Yes, Ray." 

Depicted on the front was an artist's rendition of a brawny, tanned, man with flowing blonde hair. He was naked to the waist. On his lower body he appeared to be wearing leather riding breeches with black boots. At his waist he sported a sheathed hunting knife and a beautiful, red- haired, buxom woman. She knelt at his feet; one hand resting on his upper thigh, the other on his abdomen, fingers splayed. The ties on the front of her white blouse were undone, the short puffed sleeves had slid halfway down her arms exposing a wide expanse of cleavage. In the foreground grazed a magnificent white horse, reins hanging; and in the background, a small body of water shimmered. In the middle of the pond two swans appeared to glide across the surface. The title of the book was "The Swan's Song." 

"Hmmm." Fraser frowned slightly as he studied the book cover. The man in the picture seemed vaguely familiar. For some reason, he was reminded of butter. He shook his head, trying to place the memory of the man. 

"Put the book back where you found it." 

Fraser glanced over at Ray, a questioning look on his face. 

"Put it back, Benny." 

"Will do." Fraser bent over and placed the book on the floor, shoving it back underneath the seat. He then straightened up and turned back towards his friend. 

"It's Frannie's. She must have left it in the car last week." 

Fraser nodded his head in agreement with Ray's statement. 

"She reads that kind of junk all the time." 

"All right." 

"It's got nothing to do with me." 

"I believe you Ray." 

"Good." 

Ray breathed a sigh of relief. Although the book really did belong to his sister, he had begun to read it one day while waiting for his Ma and Frannie. They had run into the Smart Shop grocery store to "pick up a few things." The few things had turned into seven bags full of groceries. To pass the time, Ray had picked up the book Francesca had left on the seat and started to read, finishing several chapters by the time his family returned to the car. He had shoved it under the seat and forgotten about it. As innocent as his actions had been, this wasn't something he wanted anyone to know. Not even Fraser. 

The business area of the city was bustling with people hurrying to work. Most of them were running late due to the conditions left behind by the storm. Traffic was moving slowly; the honking of horns and the occasional angry shout of an impatient motorist added to the cacophony in the streets. Ray pulled into the parking lot of the First National Bank of Chicago and claimed the first available space. The lot was surprisingly clear of ice and snow. The private contractor hired by the bank officials had done an excellent job. 

As the two men entered the lobby, Fraser pulled a bank book from an inner pocket of his topcoat. "Let me see that." Ray held out his hand and nodded his head at the book. The Mountie handed over the passbook and watched as his partner flipped it open to the first page. It was a trust account, listing Diefenbaker as the owner of the savings account and Benton Fraser as the trustee. Ray flipped through several pages, a look of astonishment appearing on his face. He emitted a low whistle, then handed the book back to Fraser. 

"You weren't kidding when you said Dief had more money than you. What's a wolf going to do with all that cash?" 

"It's an investment for his future." 

"What's he planning to invest in? The Nestle Corporation?" 

"Well, no, Ray. I thought it wise to put aside some funds in case anything should ever happen to me. This way, Diefenbaker will have the means to return home, if he so chooses." 

"And then some." 

"Also, he makes regular charitable donations." 

"Charitable donations? No, don't tell me. Let me guess. The Ronald McDonald Foundation?" 

"No, Ray. The local chapter of the Association for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals." 

"May I help you over here, please?" Fraser stepped up to the teller's window and presented the passbook. "Good morning Constable. How are you today?" The young woman proceeded to process the transaction, quickly and efficiently. "Fine. Thank you kindly, Ms. Keaton. And yourself?" 

In less than five minutes, the transaction was complete and the two of them headed back to the Riv. Ray was still contemplating Dief's wealth, while Fraser tried once more to place the man on the cover of Francesca's romance novel. It troubled him immensely that he couldn't recall where he had seen the face. 

"So how much did Mrs. Peterson hit you up for?" 

"It's Peterman, and she was willing to forego the compensation. However, I insisted. Diefenbaker needs to learn that crime doesn't pay." 

"Not with you in charge of the money, it doesn't. So, how much?" 

"Seventy-five dollars and sixty cents." 

"He ate seventy-five dollars worth of bagels?" 

"No. But he did have to pay for all the damages. Not just the ones he ate. Mrs. Peterman had to dispose of thirty dozen bagels because of his criminal actions." 

"Get in the car." 

As the Riv headed up the street towards the Canadian Consulate, Ray's cellphone rang. He answered with a gruff, "Yeah! What do you want?" For several seconds the detective was quiet, concentrating his efforts on steering the car around one of the city's snowplows. "Sure. I'll be there." With a disgusted outlet of breath, Ray turned off the phone and looked over at Fraser. 

"Got any special plans for tonight?" 

"Not that I'm aware." 

"Well you do now. I've been assigned to a stake-out over on Rollins Avenue. They got a suspect under surveillance for purported credit card fraud. The regular team got a touch of food poisoning from some tuna sandwiches. I've got to cover second shift. You interested?" 

"Of course, Ray." 

"I'll pick you up at 3:30." 

"Okay." 

"And Benny? You're going to have to lose the suit. We don't want to attract attention." 

"Understood." 

As the Riv pulled away from the curb, Fraser entered the building that housed the Canadian Consulate and proceeded to his office. Constable Turnbull was engaged in a telephone conversation at the reception desk, which brought a wave of relief to Benton. He nodded a good morning to the man as he passed. Once safely ensconced within his work space, he removed his outer coat, hanging it carefully on a coat hook. Next came the Stetson which he placed on a shelf in the closet. His desk was stacked with reports and files that Inspector Thatcher had heaped on him before leaving for Ottawa. She was attending a training seminar that would deal with sensitivity in the workplace and she had not been very pleased with the assignment. Her orders to him had been brief. Get the work done, or else. It mattered little to the Inspector that the work consisted of several weeks worth of various Consulate supply orders, all of which needed to be inventoried by hand. She was expected to return on the following Monday, which gave him exactly one week to complete the task. 

Benton randomly chose a folder from one of the piles and glanced inside. He lowered his head for an instant, contemplating his fate, then headed for the restroom supply closet. He would spend the next few hours checking rolls of toilet paper and various other bathroom toiletries against supply sheets and entering the figures onto the inventory ledger. Turnbull was now in the process of typing up his report on his recent telephone conversation when Ben approached the desk. 

"If you should need me, I'll be in the bathroom." 

"Would you like me to hold your calls while you're...indisposed, Sir?" 

"I won't be indisposed, Turnbull. I'll just be in the bathroom." 

"I see. And if you should get visitors, shall I have them wait in your office, Sir?" 

"Yes. That would be fine." 

"And while these visitors are waiting, shall I offer refreshments?" 

"I don't think that will be necessary." 

"But if they should ask?" 

"Then by all means, offer refreshments." 

"And, how long shall I tell them you'll be, Sir?" 

"A few minutes. I'll expect you to inform me of any calls or visitors immediately. I'll just be taking inventory, Turnbull." 

"I understand, Sir." Turnbull gave Fraser a wink, then resumed typing his report. Fraser walked away from the desk, shaking his head with perplexity. Turnbull was an efficient officer, but Benton found him to be a bit odd. 

The rest of the day was quiet. He received no calls or visitors, much to his relief. At three fifteen, Fraser emerged from the restroom, his chore completed. Constable Turnbull rushed past him, nearly knocking him over in his haste, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Fraser thought about inquiring as to why Turnbull hadn't used the other restroom, then wisely decided to leave it alone. When Turnbull exited a few minutes later, Fraser informed him that he would be gone for the remainder of the day and bade him a good evening. As he approached the front door, he realized that Diefenbaker was missing. He strode back to his office once more and searched the room. The wolf was no where to be found. "This is not a good time Diefenbaker. Ray will be here in ten minutes." 

Turnbull stuck his head inside the room. "If you're looking for Diefenbaker, he went home several hours ago." 

"He went home?" 

"I assume so. He indicated a need to go out, but once we were outside, he took off running in the direction of your apartment. I couldn't abandon my post to follow him, you understand." 

"Why didn't you inform me?" 

"Your orders were specific, Sir. I was to inform you only if you received a call or visitors." 

Fraser forced a tight smile. "Goodnight, Turnbull." 

"Goodnight, Sir." 

Five minutes later the Riv pulled up and Fraser climbed inside. 

"Where's Dief?" 

"Apparently he decided to take most of the day off. Turnbull said he went home several hours ago." 

"Great. He better be there. We don't have the time to go wolf hunting. You barely have time to change." 

"I'm sure he'll be there." Ray drove as fast as the road conditions allowed and five minutes later they arrived at Fraser's apartment building. They raced up the stairs and burst through the door to the apartment. "Dief? Diefenbaker?" Ray and Fraser searched the room quickly, yet thoroughly. The wolf wasn't home and there was no sign that he had been. "Hurry up and get changed. We'll look for him on the way." 

"I don't understand where he could have gone. Turnbull said he was heading for home. That was several hours ago." 

"Maybe he has a girlfriend." 

"Maggie wouldn't be out at this time of the day." 

"Maybe he's got another girlfriend." 

"Ray, Diefenbaker may be a thief, but he's not an adulterer." 

"He's not married, Fraser." 

"Maybe not in the conventional sense of the word Ray, but he and Maggie have a strong relationship. No, I don't think he's out with another female." Fraser grabbed his Stetson and the two of them stepped into the hall. 

"Ray? Ray Vecchio? Is that you? It *IS*you." Jo Spenser threw her arms around Ray's neck and hugged him tight. Ray peeked over her shoulder at Fraser and made a face indicating he had no idea what was going on. She suddenly let go and pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him back slightly and smiling brilliantly into his face. 

"Oh my God. Joey? Little Joey Spenser? I can't believe it. The last time I saw you, you were just a little kid in pigtails. Let me look at you." Ray placed his hands on her upper arms and let his gaze travel over her. He couldn't believe that this beautiful woman standing before him was the same little girl who used to have a crush on him. "My God, you're beautiful." 

"You should have said 'yes'." The detective started laughing as he recalled the incident she was referring to. Joey had been around twelve, although being so petite she appeared much younger. She had taken to hanging around the Vecchio house, spending dinner with the family quite often. Francesca had treated her like a younger sister, using her to experiment with make-up and clothes. Ray never took much notice to his sisters and their friends, except when they got in his way or bothered him. He had just joined the police academy and was preoccupied with his studies. One night after dinner, as he sat on the front porch, she joined him. At first he tried to ignore her, but the kid had been determined to get his attention. She began asking questions about police procedure. Her inquiries were well defined and thought provoking. Ray found himself answering the questions and telling stories about life at the academy. 

During a lull in the conversation, she had startled him by asking if he would marry her. His first impulse had been to laugh at the incongruity of her question, but as he looked into her eyes, he could tell that she was quite serious with her proposal. Not wanting to hurt the girl's feelings, he told her that he was too old for her and that by the time she grew up to be a woman, she wouldn't want him anyway. He tried to be gentle and sensitive, not wanting to tell her the truth. That he was involved with someone and thought he was in love. Ray remembered how steady her gaze had been when she told him that someday he would be sorry he didn't say yes. Although her voice shook with emotion, not a tear fell from her eyes. She had gotten up and went back inside. They never spoke about what had transpired on the porch. In fact, they never really spoke to each other again. 

"You're right. I should have." Ray smiled softly at the now grown-up little girl he once knew. 

"Ah-hem. I take it you know each other?" Ben had been closely observing the interaction between his best friend and his...neighbor. It was obvious they knew one another. He wondered just how well and under what circumstances. He felt a sudden pang of anxiety as he noticed how Ray still held her arms and that Jo hadn't moved her hands off of his chest. They were staring into each other's eyes and smiling brightly. Ben could feel his blood rushing through his veins and hear the pounding of his heart. Time seemed to stand still as the picture of Ray and Jo burned itself in his mind. A chasm opened up deep within him and the pain he had thought gone, returned with a vengeance. They let go of each other simultaneously and looked his way. Fraser tried to keep his emotions in check, barely containing himself. 

"Know each other? We almost got married." Ray looked at Jo and grinned. 

"We didn't almost get married." 

"You were engaged to be married?" Ray had never mentioned an engagement; then again, he hadn't told him about Angie, either. As the significance of this statement penetrated his consciousness, Fraser began to ponder the consequences of the situation. 

"No. I asked Ray to marry me and he turned me down flat. He tried to tell me it was the age difference, but I knew better. You had a girlfriend." 

"You knew?" Ray was surprised that Jo had known about Angie. 

"Of course I knew. Frannie told me." 

"She never could keep her yap shut." 

"You were sweet though, Ray. Trying so hard not to hurt my feelings." 

"I was afraid you'd start crying and then Ma would have killed me." 

"I never cry. This is so incredible! Do you two work together?" Jo directed her attention first to Ray, then Fraser. When his blue eyes met hers, an alarm went off in her mind. Something was terribly wrong. 

Over the weekend they had spent a great deal of time together; unpacking the rest of her belongings, setting up the computer and stereo equipment, arranging her library of VHS tapes. He had a talent for organization that she admired. While they worked, he had entertained her with Inuit stories and reminiscence of his childhood and early days on the Force. As he talked, she had stared into those blue eyes and had been fascinated by their depth. She had felt on the verge of infinity, as though she had known this man forever. A certain familiarity existed between them, bringing ease and comfort. Now, there was a starkness evident on his face. Even more upsetting to Jo, a darkness had settled behind his eyes. She reached out and touched his arm. "Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine." Fraser mentally composed himself and forced a grin. 

"He's just worried about Dief. He's missing." 

"Dief! I'd forgotten in all the excitement. That's what I meant to tell you. He's with me." Relief washed over her as she realized the reason for his discontent. 

"What do you know, Fraser. I was right about the girlfriend." 

"He came to the door around lunch time, so I let him in." Jo turned and opened the door to her apartment. Diefenbaker strolled nonchalantly into the hall and took up a position next to the woman. 

"I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience." Fraser locked gazes with the wolf. "We'll discuss this matter later." He was a bit disturbed by Diefenbaker's flagrant desertion earlier. "Thank you kindly for taking care of him." 

"You don't have to thank me, Fraser. He's welcome anytime. So are you." 

"Oh man, we're late. Welsh will have my head. It was really great seeing you again Jo. How about the three of us get together? Dinner?" 

"Dinner sounds good." Jo smiled at Ray's invitation. 

"How's tomorrow, around seven?" 

"That's fine." 

"And you, Fraser?" Ray turned in the Mountie's direction and waited for an answer. 

Fraser had been contemplating the predicament he now faced upon the discovery of Ray and Jo's past relationship. He had made a solemn vow never to allow a woman to disrupt his friendship with Ray again. He meant to keep that promise, no matter the cost to himself. 

"Yes, Ray?" Benton had lost track of the conversation. 

"Okay, it's a date. Pick you up at seven." 

"I'll be ready." Jo waved a good-bye and returned to her apartment. 

"Let's go, Fraser." 

As the two men descended the stairs, Fraser's thoughts were preoccupied by the injustice of Fate. It appeared he was destined to a life of solitude. The notion of spending a lifetime of loneliness was oppressive; especially after experiencing the intimate bond he'd felt with Jo this past weekend. He barely heard Ray as they made their way to the car. 

"What a coincidence, huh? Your woman turns out to be practically my first wife. It's almost like Deja Vu." 

"No, Ray, actually this is the first time a situation of this nature and magnitude reared its ugly head in our direction. However, I assure you I will comport myself with the utmost decorum in deference to our circumstances" 

"I've no idea what the hell you're babbling about." They reached the car and climbed inside, Diefenbaker immediately stretching out across the back seat. He'd spent the afternoon following the woman around her apartment as she made minor adjustments to the furnishings. She'd hung some pictures, unpacked clothes, and did some work at the computer, all the while singing along with the music she had put on. Dief was exhausted. 

"It must be Fate. Don't you think?" Fraser nodded his head in affirmation as Ray pulled the Riv away from the curb and headed towards Rollins Street. 

"Yes, Ray. It must be." 

 

The saga continues..............Dream A Little Dream  
Comments, suggestions, etc., more than welcome. Please let me know your opinion.  
Send e-mail to

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